Purpose
by anipotter13
Summary: Serrana loses her chance at revenge. What is there left when all that you lived for is taken away?


Purpose

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft. The character Serrana belongs to me. The Sanguine Dawn and Salil belong to my brother- and sister-in-law.

Summary: Serrana loses her chance at revenge. What is there left when all that you lived for is taken away?

Serrana grimaced as she cut down the last zombie, steam rising from the gruesome remains in the bitter Icecrown air. Looking around quickly for another enemy, she realized that in her rage she had killed the whole party almost before they knew she was there. Sheathing her gore-soaked blade, she walked away from the scene, her mood no better than before. She shook, her fists clenching as her mind turned once again to the news that had just arrived at the small Horde encampment hiding along the base of Ymirheim in the middle of Icecrown—the news of the Lich King's demise.

The orcs stationed at the camp had immediately broken out kegs of blood elven wine, though why there was wine in a small war camp, Serrana had no idea. While they left caution to the wind and began a celebration, Serrana had disgustedly slipped away, leaving no sign of her passing on the thin layer of newly-fallen snow. Her ice-blue eyes blazed in fury as the thought teased her that her last chance for vengeance had been stripped away, by the blade of a human's sword, if she'd heard the story correct.

Once again, the horrors that had befallen her years ago came to life in her mind; fighting the undead army sent by the Lich King to destroy all life on Azeroth; dying alone in a lost land amongst the bodies of friend and foe alike; awakening days later as a tool for those whom she had died fighting against; committing horrible atrocities while under the Lich King's powerful mind control; and finally breaking free from his control and vowing to never rest until his heart had been pierced by her blade. Now that could never be; she felt as if her chance at inner peace was gone.

When she had chanced upon a small group of Scourge zombies and skeletons, she hadn't even blinked before leaching away the little bit of heat from the ground beneath them, freezing their feet in place. Unsheathing her sword, she had leapt in the middle of them, who had no chance to do anything but fall to her powerful strikes. It was only after a few minutes that she pondered on the fact that she had cast that spell instead of what she usually attacked with, which caused the ground under the enemy to boil with unholy energies. Both spells had the desired effect of weakening numerous enemies at once, but it was yet another sign that being in Northrend, and specifically Icecrown, for so long had changed her.

The first sign of her minor transformation had been the loss of her self-healing ability along with her bloodworms. While this was unsettling, the Scourge that she regularly fought posed little enough threat to her that it didn't stop her from throwing herself into battles. Some of her spells also changed to mirror the cold, unsympathetic environment she fought in. While she noted and wondered about the changes, they didn't bother her; in fact, most of them increased the damage she could do, so in a way she welcomed the alterations. The most noticeable sign of her change was her hair. Once black as night, it had faded to a frosty blue in less than a week's time.

As she strode through the quickly darkening ice plains of the late Lich King's lands, she questioned her future. After all, what place did an undead blood elf have in a world where she was either shunned because she was a resurrected corpse or because she, even for a short time while under powerful mind control, served the enemy? The idea of suicide (while interesting to contemplate for one who was technically already dead) held no appeal for her as it seemed a cowardly way to die.

Before news of the Lich King's demise had reached her, she had thrown herself into every battle recklessly, eager to fight her way to the steps of his throne if she had to. Any fear of a final death had been greatly outweighed by the emotions gnawing at her: anger and revulsion at what had been done to her, disgust that she had become the very thing she had died to save her people from, and the insatiable need to make someone pay. Now that the object of her obsession was dead, her mad dash to get to Icecrown Citadel no matter the cost was a lost cause. What life, or _un_life, could she live when she had nothing left to live or fight for? Her father and brother were dead, killed by the Scourge before she was old enough to leave home. She hadn't contacted her mother and sister since before her last battle as a living blood elf; she didn't even know if either of them still lived. But was there truly any point in trying to get ahold of them? _Why would they want anything to do with me, especially if they knew all the things I've done, what I've become?_ she asked herself.

As she reflected on her lost family, another thought emerged into her mind, one of the guild she had joined months ago. While at the time she had been hoping for an alliance that would forward her bid to attack the Lich King directly, that anticipation had quickly been squashed when it became apparent that the Sanguine Dawn had other priorities. One aspect about the Dawn that she hadn't thought important before was that they truly seemed to care about their members. She recalled the guild master, Salil, had welcomed her into the Dawn without the animosity and arrogance usually shown by her kind to anyone who was different, even when Serrana hadn't been exactly polite.

Looking around, Serrana realized that she had wandered so far across the glacial ice that the mountains her camp nestled against were hardly visible in the darkness of the night. She looked around suspiciously; the lack of a sneak attack on a lone warrior by the Scourge was a bit disconcerting, but seemed yet another indication that the defenders of Azeroth were slowly pushing back those that would destroy all life on the planet. Taking one last look around, her elven eyes spying no danger in the chilly night, she began the trek back to the Horde camp. As she walked, her thoughts turned back to the Sanguine Dawn. With the war in Northrend all but won, she thought of contacting Salil and becoming a true part of the guild. _Yes, that is what I'll do._


End file.
